


Apple Blossoms

by Sourastherain



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourastherain/pseuds/Sourastherain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard Mccoy takes his daughter to an apple orchard where he meets the owner, a reclusive and quiet Spock, who loves and cares for the apple trees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apple Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Sarah](http://groffism.tumblr.com) on tumblr. <3

Joanna likes the flowers more than the apples themselves, but she’s a little girl and Jocelyn likes to give her dolls and pretty dresses. She spends the first few seconds looking at the blossoms in the orchard instead of the barrels of apples. Of course, Joanna also likes to run through the grass and get green stains all across her knees. Leonard lets her every chance he gets and buys color safe bleach so it’s their little secret. She forgets the delicate flowers and trots off to play quickly enough.

He shades his eyes against the rays of sun filtering through the trees as he keeps an eye on her. The apple orchard is up in a canyon in the hills, the winding road recently paved and shaded by big trees that have been there since before the farmers came in. More people know of it now than when Leonard was a kid and his parents brought him up here to buy apples and cider. Joanna is playing on a rustic little swing set with two boys who are about her age, one maybe younger. 

Something like this would be good for her, but he can’t give her sprawling orchards and tire swings anymore, not since the divorce. 

He doesn’t want to go down that train of thought right now. Things are good. Leonard gets to wash grass stains out of her jeans every other weekend. He’s glad for a moment that he remembered this place, even if it is a little out of the way. They do have to get back to the apartment for dinner if he wants to have time to cook everything, but she looks like she’s having too much fun. Leonard sets his brown paper bag down on a picnic table and pulls out one of the sweeter apples, the eating apples his mother would say.

“They’re all eatin’ apples,” his father would say and be shushed, because the others were clearly pie apples, applesauce apples, cobbler apples, baked, drizzled with maple syrup apples.

Apple season has just started and there will be many more varieties before it ends, but for now he’s rubbing at the shiny, deep red peel, taking off the dust before he eats it.

“Good afternoon,” Leonard hears and he glances over as a man stiffly joins him on the bench.

“Afternoon,” he replies out of politeness, though he doesn’t particularly want to talk. It’s something he’s improving on, mostly because of his pain in the ass best friend, but that’s a different day’s work. He’d rather watch his daughter chase the boys around, hollering about cops and robbers. Leonard bites into his apple, crisp and tart with a sharp tang.

“The Burgundies are particularly flavorful this season,” the other man says and draws his attention back. “But they do not survive well and it is my recommendation to keep them refrigerated.”

Leonard glances at the pale flesh of the apple and swallows before speaking. The man has a peculiar way of phrasing his thoughts, formal and contained. “It’s a good apple, don’t think this bag’ll last very long anyway.”

The apple expert almost smiles, a note of pleasure crossing his face but he ducks his head almost shyly. Leonard sees him clasp his hands together over his lap. He’s got dark eyes, serious eyes.

“I do hope that means you will return before the season is over then,” he says.

“Not sure I could resist after this,” Leonard tells him. He wants to be curt but he’s feeling too warmly full of nostalgia. “I used to come up here every year, but that was quite a few years back. You work the stand often?”

“I own the orchard, though I commonly find myself here on Saturday afternoons,” the other man says. Awkwardly, he adds, “My name is Spock.”

“Leonard,” Leonard offers, surprised. “It’s good to meet you. How long you own the place?”

“Four years,” Spock replies. “I purchased the orchard when it fell under hard times because I could not bear for it to become a ruin of the past. I found it… tranquil. There is a certain satisfaction in growing produce.”

Leonard carefully bites into his apple again, listening to the hint of poetic affection that Spock has for the orchard. It even seems to soften his tense eyes as they shift over to where the trees are beyond the fencing. There’s a gravel parking area and a storefront to the apple stand that’s wooden and painted like a red barn. Leonard realizes that he hadn’t truly looked at the place, buying his apples in a haze. It’s changed but still holds onto the country charm that he remembers.

“Glad you did,” he says honestly. His curiosity is piqued and Leonard turns to him. He’s about to come up with something to spur more conversation, something about apple trees to keep Spock talking, but apparently it’s not meant to be.

“Daaaaddy!” Joanna interrupts, kicking up dust as she skids to a stop in front of him. Her cheeks are pink and flushed from all the running around but she’s smiling widely. “Is it time to go?”

Leonard notices that her playmates have left, which explains why she’s eager to leave, and he pats the bench beside him. She climbs onto it and wraps both her arms around his elbow. 

“You’re ready to go home already?” he asks, slightly disappointed. It’s not like he thinks much would come out of talking about apples with Spock, but he’s human and lonely. Leonard kind of wants the connection. It’s been a while since he’s had the urge to be sociable without a good deal of prodding involved.

“I’m bored!” Joanna declares. “There’s no one else to play with and you promised we’d make a pie.”

“Alright, Jo Jo,” Leonard says. He glances up to find Spock watching with what is an actual faint smile this time. “Nice to meet you, but it looks like I’ve gotta go keep a promise.”

“An important promise,” Spock replies with a sharp nod, like he truly agrees. “A pie is a serious matter.”

“Very serious,” Leonard lets out with a short chuckle of his own. It only takes a second to pick up his bag of apples. Joanna has somehow managed to steal his half-eaten burgundy and is chewing on it with a surprised look on her face. He takes her empty hand as the three of them stand from the picnic table.

“It was likewise a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Leonard,” Spock says, tucking his hands into his faded denim pockets. “Do come again.”

“Take it easy, Spock,” he says. 

On the drive out of the canyon, Leonard drums his fingers on the steering wheel. The owner of the orchard is odd, to say the least, rather formal and awkward, but something about Spock makes him feel strangely warm, like the scent of baked apples and cinnamon. He can’t help that thought as it strikes him, no matter how silly and overly sentimental. Apple season is just beginning.


End file.
